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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146629">Serenity Oil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreWren/pseuds/TeaJay'>TeaJay (LoreWren)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales Cerulean [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Exalted (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>24/7, AKA surprise Ceru is a switch Verithine is just such a dom it didn’t matter, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Demons, Drugs, Explicit Consent, Fantastic Racism, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hard Packing, Height Differences, Height Kink, Knotting, Leather, Lintha (Exalted), Lube, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pirates, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Role Reversal, Sword &amp; Song (setting), The wip title for this was “Shameless Ceruthine Kink”, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Tya (Exalted), Xenophilia, consent negotiations, lube as lube</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreWren/pseuds/TeaJay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aphrodisiac,” Verithine said, marking the depth of the crate. “Probably wedding favors for some Terrestrial leeches. Fetches a good amount of jade on the Isle, especially if someone isn’t too excited about their spouse.”</p><p>“Huh. It actually work?”</p><p>Palila and Verithine exchanged a look. “I’ll go ahead and let the captain answer that one.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Admiral Verithine/Teller of Tales Cerulean, Teller of Tales Cerulean/The Crew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales Cerulean [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Not a bad haul,” I said, helping sort. A fair number of crates that would need checking—never knew when someone had decided firedust should go right next to some Fire Aspect’s artifact handkerchief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine grunted, hauling something about twice my size while I darted in the spaces between crates and Lintha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of it was standard—food, water, weapons, jewelry. One of the boxes was carefully layered with some dried herb in linen that was padding highly decorated crystal vials. There was some sort of labeling on them—looked vaguely like Old Realm, but even if the cognates were right, all I could make out was a title of the Maiden of Serenity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I took a breath to cut through the sea’s murmur. “Glass in this one! Looks fancy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palila glanced my way. “What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure. I think it’s labelled in High Realm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shifted out of her way as she peered down. The bottle was more made for my size of hand than hers; Palila held it delicately between thumb and index finger, squinting at the label. “Serenity oil,” she said. I shrugged. “Touch of Venus in oil,” she clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never heard of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aphrodisiac,” Verithine said, marking the depth of the crate. “Probably wedding favors for some Terrestrial leeches. Fetches a good amount of jade on the Isle, especially if someone isn’t too excited about their spouse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. It actually work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palila and Verithine exchanged a look. “I’ll go ahead and let the captain answer that one. Sir?” He nodded a dismissal. She put the bottle back down as though it might explode, then went to start moving the food to the stores.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raised an eyebrow. Verithine smiled. “Grab a bottle. Our room will do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one?” I asked with my best wide-eyed innocence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine laughed. “Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, then leaned over, grabbing a vial and then holding up one of the pieces of padded linen. “Any of the herb itself?” I held it up without straightening. He swatted my ass as intended, and I grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely,” he rumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I got up, holding one of each, then saluted and darted off, dodging feet. Always a bit of a danger, being on a ship made for someone over a foot taller than you, but even if they were trying their best chances were good anyone carrying a crate literally couldn’t see me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful, Ceru!” I froze, pressing to the nearest mast. Palila shook her head. “Just—don’t drop it.” Her ears twitched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Strange. Normally that only happens if I’m flirting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine was just as likely to be teasing, but Palila didn’t use that tone when she didn’t need to. I picked my way across the deck with a bit more care, and when I settled the vial in a drawer I wrapped it in the linen and then one of my ruined robes we were saving for rags. Ships moved. Couldn’t hurt to make sure it wouldn’t.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Verithine wore a pair of leather gloves. They fit him nicely, and the sun-kissed copper color of them put me in mind of his dick. The match was close enough that I was certain that was the point. The crystal bottle was on a shelf by the bed, tied to one of the straps that was usually there for alcohol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I set my face on my open hand, lying on our bed. “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your clothes off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned to cross my legs, forming a line he could follow up my silhouette. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes ran up me the way I’d intended. “I like that robe. And if I get any of this on you before you’re out of it then you’re going to tear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to be overselling this. Everything I’d ever seen sold as an aphrodisiac helped blood flow, or maybe helped a person stay awake or relaxed them. The rest was down to how much you decided it worked, and I knew that game too well for it to work on me. I’d used bread, once, claimed the grain awakened “untapped sexual urges,” and a man I’d been flirting with suddenly found his nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even if you knew the trick, it could still be fun playing. I untied my robe, folded it neatly, then loosened and stepped out of my pants, throwing a smile over my shoulder. Verithine was there, watching with more appreciation than impatience. Barely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pants went next to my boots, in the corner of clothes space that was mine, and I swapped underwear for the harness he’d gifted me, straps of leather holding a glass dick against my groin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned in a circle, eyebrows raised. Usually the cloth piece that bound my chest was part of ‘naked’, along with the harness, but he might have a flogging in mind, and I wouldn’t object. Maybe Verithine would claim that this serenity oil made pain feel like pleasure, then strike me until I got off. We both enjoyed that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now lie on the bed like a good bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I settled into a stance. “Make me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine grinned and surged. I ducked into him—he had reach on me, but that meant I could get in his guard easier than he could get in mine. I snapped the heel of my palm into his solar plexus, an ideal target at my height, then tried to go for his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got mine first. I hooked a leg behind his, pulling him down onto the bed, rolling to get behind him, catch his arms at the elbows, but didn’t quite get my leg back around his before he rolled us over. My turn to have the wind knocked out of me, his full weight on my chest. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of recovering from that yet, and I lost track of him when my vision went white. He straddled me, pinning my legs with his and my arms with his hand. His ass did distracting things to my dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine’s hand wrapped around my throat, leather warm against my skin. He pressed up, hard enough to make it clear he could crush my windpipe, or could simply halt the blood to my head until I passed out. I hit the mattress twice with my palm and he let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re improving.” The crinkle of skin around his eyes said he meant it. “Now lie still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I held my hands out, palm-up, still preferring to breathe rather than reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine scratched off the bottle’s wax seal and very carefully tipped a drop onto his right index finger before replacing it on the shelf. I rolled my eyes at the theatrics; expensive or not we had more, and even if the stuff worked, if it was supposed to be a wedding favor then an overdose couldn’t be too dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he shifted down my body, letting the head of my cock brush his groin, his belly. I twitched up and he put a thumb on my hipbone. “Stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I decided he could be as theatrical as he liked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for the place my harness split into two straps, rubbing the oil just barely in me, not even fucking my ass with his finger yet, just rolling it around enough to make my eyes close. I groaned, struggling to stay still, to not buck into him. The oil seemed to be warming to my skin faster than normal, or maybe that was part of it. I’d seen plenty of ‘aphrodisiacs’ that were just mild irritants—worked well enough if all you needed was better blood flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-oh.” Blood flow, definitely. And increased sensitivity. That would be enough on its own, and explain Palila’s caution. Wouldn’t want a ship full of moving goods where suddenly a chunk of the crew kept getting distracted by the texture of the deck, or bleeding out from a simple scrape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During those thoughts, Verithine had been moving just a little, rubbing a finger not yet in my ass and a thumb against the flat of my harness. We matched rhythm, and it was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh—what is—oh fuck, oh, I’m, I’m—“ I fell into an orgasm—or something like one. My muscles tensed, and my nerves sang up and down my body, but rather than stopping it...echoed. I felt like I could go straight into another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My face burned. I tried to get my elbows under me. “I didn’t—mean to—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I found Verithine’s eyes, he made that purring-hushing noise and smiled. “Breathe. I am not expecting you to be able to stop yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His finger slid in, just the first knuckle, and I keened. I could feel every bit of texture on the glove, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Verithine, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what?” He knew. Had the smirk he always got when he wanted me begging for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I need—touch me, please?” I realized that he was wearing gloves so he wouldn’t get serenity oil on him, and privately mourned the fact that I wouldn’t be getting his cock in me. Then his finger moved in deeper, not even thrusting, just curling and relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, during sex, I lose track of something. My focus narrows, or splits in too many directions for me to follow the threads. Serenity oil seemed to have the side effect of allowing a higher level of mental multitasking, and I imagine would see use in a variety of situations if it weren’t for the obvious downside of trying to do anything but fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed at my throat and I felt his lips, felt the way his teeth shaped them, felt his hand, felt the sheets, saw the light slanting through the cabin, saw a sock discarded on the ground, heard the sounds of a working crew, smelled sea and wood and food, saw and smelled and felt and heard Verithine, being so gentle. “Verithine,” I gasped, “Verithine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Ceru,” he murmured, lips shaping the words as they moved across my skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-m-may I come, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine pulled back to look at me, and I whined helplessly for loss of warmth, of flesh, of him. “Could you help it?” His finger—still just one, Five Maidens and every star what would two be like—started thrusting, slow but present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I trembled. “If”—I swallowed—“if you tell me not to come, I-I w-w-won-n’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed me, unhurried, sucking my tongue and nipping at my lips, occasionally murmuring, “Come,” into my open mouth. Every time he said it, I did.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The sun was slanting through the window when I woke. Verithine had loosened my undershirt as I slept. I ran my hands down my front, checking for any lingering tactile effects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm,” I agreed. I slid down, cupping my hand over his dick. “How long do you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced out the window. “Long enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” I squeezed and his pupils opened, spreading from slits to near-ovals. “Because I need a moment to warm up, if you’re fucking my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” He shook his head. “Not that long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed as though desperately forlorn. “Then what could we do, Verithine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The growl was deep enough to feel through my hand, nearly through the bed. “Ceru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I mouthed down his front, kissed and licked at the curves between his hipbones. “What does the herb alone do, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get your mouth on my cock and I’ll tell you,” he rumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed him all at once, holding him in the back of my throat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaia’s turn</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he breathed, one of those Lintha phrases I’d learned from situations remarkably similar to this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I curled my tongue, sliding back until the weight of his dick slid out of my mouth, a line of seed following. I managed not to cough through the force of an overabundance of pride, disguising the impulse with a swallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were saying?” I wrapped my lips around him again. Copper and salt and something I lacked words for swirled on my tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same thing, more or less. Mm, you’ve been practicing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitch.” His eyelids sank. “It’s ingested instead of topical. Lasts longer. Whole body.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivers scattered their way across my shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Last night was the milder version?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He twisted his hand in my braids, fucking my face onto him. When I groaned, his rhythm stuttered, and I remembered he hadn’t come last night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to ask,” he said, starting to lose hold of his diction, dropping consonants. “Gonna slip it in your food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swore around his dick and started stroking my cock, pressing and twisting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t tell you when. Just watch your focus slip until you, let, anyone, do whatever they want as long as they touch, you—“ Verithine groaned and came, pressing me hard on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed, focusing on the feel of him in my mouth, muscles trembling around me, my hand on my dick, until I shuddered a real orgasm. The lassitude that followed was blessedly simple, after the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine pulled me off his cock, and I collapsed on top of him. I hadn’t quite swallowed everything, some spilling past my lips and more still in my mouth, and it was...nice. To lay there with him. As if agreeing, he started petting my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, I turned enough to look at him. “Did you mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About slipping it into my food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes sharpened on me, and he scratched a little into my scalp. “You want me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question. I swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm…” The hum turned into one of those sounds that might have been a word. The Lintha tongue had plenty of those, more focused on the tune and the rhythm than the syllables the way I thought of them. “I would need to tell the crew, make sure no one worried.” Nice, firm scratches, regular and soothing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could fall asleep here to the sound of him scheming. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“And then everyone would know, while you were still wondering if </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the time, or if you were just that much of a slut that day.” I shivered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine shifted, sliding me off him and onto the bed, interrupting my afterglow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what,” he said, stretching. “If you still like the idea tomorrow, ask me then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I groaned and re-threw myself onto the bed. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> tease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine paused long enough in putting on his shirt to raise both eyebrows as far as they went. He did not actually say, ‘That’s not what you said last night,’ but the tips of my ears burned loudly enough for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ceru,” he said, pulling his shirt down, “Whatever you have on in five minutes is what you’re wearing for the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m up I’m up!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I woke up early enough for false dawn. It’s a thing worth watching, out on the ocean, especially when the ship is facing the right direction to watch it from the comfort of a warm Lintha’s arms. Gradually, the sun crested the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled over. “Verithine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s tomorrow. I’m asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, likely placing my meaning, he grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he dressed for the day, he took a handful of touch of Venus. No gloves—apparently only the infusion worked by skin contact. I tucked that information away for future fantasies on the subject. Hand-feeding was an option, it seemed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time I thought it might have happened, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Makisig wrapped fingers around my wrist. He blinked. “You all right there, Ceru?”</p><p>Verithine had said he’d tell the crew, and Makisig was a terrible liar. His ears twitched and he pitched his voice too low. Worked if you didn’t know him—humans didn’t usually recognize ear motions and the tone seemed neutral if you hadn’t heard him speak—but he wasn’t doing any of that.</p><p>I smiled. “Just thinking about something else.” I let the smile spread, shifting my weight to lean one hip against the rail. “You might be able to give me a hand with it, if you’re in the mood.”</p><p>Makisig echoed my grin. </p><hr/><p>The second time I thought it, I was more in the middle of things. Verithine pulled me into a corner after dinner and kissed me breathless.</p><p>“What, got into, <em> you</em>?” I asked against his mouth, on a crate and still straining to reach him. The trials of a lover who has two feet on you.</p><p>Verithine laughed. “Sat on my lap half the meal and you’re asking what got into me.” He hooked his hands under my ass, pressing me up against the wall. </p><p>Free of that strain, I hooked my arms around his neck and relaxed the way he liked, opening myself up, eyelids falling, groaning when he shifted against me. Warmth radiated, a glorious thing after the rain and wind of the past week. My lute had been in our room, strings loosened, for days now: the air was too temperamental not to snap them. I held myself the same way, tension fading until my body was one more untuned instrument.</p><p>“Eager thing,” he murmured, “ever since the first bite.”</p><p>I flushed deep. <em> Was that— How long does touch of Venus take to work? </em>I had thought I was playing with him, but had he…?</p><p>Verithine set his thigh under me, hands working through layers of fabric until they found the skin of my waist. I whined. “<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>“Mmmmm…” He grinned into me. “You’re hard.”</p><p>I laughed, stretching back to give him my neck. “You hadn’t noticed?’</p><p>One hand palmed me as he licked up my throat. “I usually focus on your <em> ass</em>”—a hand dipped to squeeze—“and your <em> mouth</em>”—his tongue pressed past my lips and I shuddered, sucking hard and thinking of his cock. He drew back. “But...”</p><p>Verithine dropped me on a crate. I considered complaining until he crouched to kiss me again, and then—<em>oh. </em></p><p>He knelt. I stared. </p><p>“I should remember to wreck you more often.” He loosed the tie on my wrap pants and pulled them out of the way, freeing my cock.</p><p>“Are you—are you—“</p><p>Verithine watched my face as he sank onto me, then shut his eyes and hummed. </p><p>I tried to breathe. “Fuck.” Every inch of me trembled when he popped the head of my cock against his cheek. Fingers dug under my harness, pulling me closer, and just the line of his throat as he swallowed could have killed me. </p><p>He drew back. “Like that, pretty boy?”</p><p>“Yes, please, please d-don’t stop.”</p><p>His hands threaded in mine. “Good boy. And good boys get rewarded. Now press.”</p><p>“Wha—<em>oh.</em>” As I spoke he put my hands on his head and settled his mouth on my dick. He didn’t move until I moved him. When I did, he slid along me, speeding as I started swearing in endless breaths between gasps.</p><p>“I’m—I’m going to—“ I shoved him down until his lips touched the base of my cock and shuddered into him. </p><p>Muscles back to tuneless strings, I slumped against the wall. <em> Not touch of Venus, then. One orgasm wouldn’t do it.  </em></p><p>“Mm. Handsome when you’re wrecked.”</p><p>On the third try, I managed to speak. “Th-th-thank you, Master.”</p><p>He grinned, slow and predatory and gorgeous. “There’s my bitch.” </p><p>If I ever drowned in one of his kisses, it would be a fine way to go.</p><hr/><p>The third time was more a flash of consideration than real belief.</p><p>Kimo was always a treat. Very proud, had a habit of passing tasks off to anyone below him who’d put up with it. Enjoyed hazing the new crew—had tossed me up into the crow’s nest once. Rope ladders would not have been my choice of hungover entertainment even if it had been sized for a man of my height, instead of a good foot or two taller.</p><p>“Did you have a request, little thing?” I flexed around his cock.</p><p>“Fuck off—damn human bitch—<em>nnng!</em>”</p><p>I lifted my hips. “Oh? I could stop.”</p><p>He swore in Lintha, but I liked his tone better.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>“Please what?”</p><p>He jerked his head around, as though needing to confirm we were alone. “Please, sir,” he murmured, quiet but fully audible. </p><p>“Say it again. I didn’t hear you.”</p><p>His hips trembled, and he ducked his head. It was amazing how thoroughly this humiliated him, no matter how often he’d done it. “Please, sir.” </p><p>I sank down onto his knot, settling my ass against his hips. Loved to hear him groan with it, especially when there was that whimper at the end. “There. Was that so hard?”</p><p>He shot me a look that had terrified many a sailor across the West. It worked better when his ears didn’t twitch. I smiled lightly and rolled my hips in a rhythm that would keep his attention. </p><p>“Captain told us about the fucking herb,” he said through his teeth. “Looking forward to seeing you begging for it.”</p><p>Warmth eased its way up my face, but I kept my smile in place and twisted his nipple until he gasped. “It’s cute you think I’d beg you for anything.” <em> Two months since Verithine used the serenity oil on me. Do I remember what it felt like? Would I notice? </em></p><p>“You, w-ould.”</p><p>A moment of confusion where I thought I’d spoken aloud before I realized what he was replying to. “Of course, little thing.” He whined and jerked up into me, not that he had much room to move this deep in me. “Now, if you want me to fuck your ass <em> before </em> I beat it bloody, I suggest you save your mouth for begging.” </p><p>He looked down at where our bodies met, clearly at war with himself. After a long, trembling moment: “Yes, sir. Please, sir. Please?”</p><hr/><p>The fourth time was the same way. Verithine was leaving to check on other ships among his <em> Sword and Song </em> fleet, and he often planned something for when he got back. I fidgeted a little, thinking of it and thinking of sleeping in a bed without him.</p><p>“Ceru.” I looked up from his armor. “I won’t be long. A few days, at most.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes and returned to buffing out a scratch. The thing had gotten lighter for me, I was fairly certain. But then, it was an artifact; they had their own minds on such things. “Then you can spare a moment for me to mind your things.”</p><p>“I’ll be swimming. The polish’ll come off.”</p><p>“And after a day in the sun I’m covered in sweat and dirt, but I still wash.”</p><p>He took the breastplate out of my hands and pulled it over himself. I worked the buckles the way he liked them, then did a quick spot check with the rag one last time. </p><p>He caught my wrist. “And one note for my bitch, while I’m away.”</p><p>My stance shifted, partner to plaything. “Yes, Master?”</p><p>“You can fuck anyone you like, but no coming.”</p><p>I tilted my head, looking sideways and up at him. “...I probably won’t, then.” The barest hint of a question at the end, <em> Do you want me to? </em></p><p>He pulled me up into a kiss. “Either way. I just want my bitch itching for it when I get back.”</p><p>That thought, again, that he might have set things up to slip a little touch of Venus in my food just before he returned. One kind of frustration fading straight into the other. “I don’t expect you’ll have any problems there.” </p><p>He grinned, sharp teeth all the way across. Any other day, I might have shivered and leaned into him, seen if we could spend at least a few more minutes in the captain’s quarters, but I didn’t know his responsibilities elsewhere well enough to account for them.</p><p>“Breakfast.” I wiped his breastplate one last time, more to get the last word in than because it wasn’t perfect. “Keola seemed excited, be a pity to miss it.”</p><p>Breakfast was lovely, fruits and meat and some fancy pastes I didn’t recognize that went well even on hard tack. Though the smoked meats were a little overspiced. Tasted faintly grassy, maybe a hint of something hot and sweet, and enough of it to burn. There must have been something rare in one of the crates I hadn’t seen. No one else seemed to be having trouble—probably one of those things that tasted different to Lintha, the way I’d heard Kartika call fresh meat pleasantly sour.</p><p>Overspiced or not, the food was still novel—even Keola could only do so much with what we’d had onboard before the last raid. I ate what was put in front of me, and enjoyed the abundance of it.</p><p>Keola might have been flirting, the sheer number of times she came by to check on me. Most of the women on the ship had put together that I had no interest, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone had expected to be an exception. Until she pressed the issue, I took it as friendliness and minded the signals I was giving her.</p><p>Soon enough, the food was eaten, and we were out of preparations. Verithine and I lingered over our kiss. Warmth bloomed up from the base of my spine as he held me, echoing where he touched. I laughed a little with it—there was a delightful edge there, the way there had been in our first few weeks together. He held my face in his hands when we finally pulled back. I was blushing, but I hoped it didn’t show to anyone who wasn’t touching me.</p><p>“Miss you,” I murmured.</p><p>“You will.” He grinned and kissed me one last time, warm as sunlight and twice as heady. “Miss you, too, Ceru mine.”</p><p>Verithine dove a handsome arc off the ship, slicing into the water cleanly, with a barely visible and inaudible disruption of the surface. The water was calm enough to see him swim until I blinked and lost him, green-blue skin in blue-green sea.</p><p>On a different day, I might have watched a bit longer, but I must have been out longer than I’d thought. Everything felt warm and my vision and hearing were sharpening in odd ways. I went to get more water and find a shaded place to sit down. There was a nice breeze, at least, and enough clouds for some cover without threatening to storm.</p><p>I sat down, sipping out of the waterskin I’d refilled. The warmth wasn’t subsiding, but it had stopped getting worse. I was sweating normally, but didn’t feel dizzy or thirsty or tired. Strange. Maybe not sun sickness. I tracked symptoms, tracing back to….around when Verithine left? Something I ate, maybe a reaction to one of those new spices. This felt familiar, though, but not like a fever and not like sun sickness, had been more intense when I….touched Verithine...</p><p>
  <em> “It’s ingested instead of topical. Lasts longer. Whole body.”  </em>
</p><p>I swallowed. </p><p>
  <em> “You can fuck anyone you like, but no coming.” </em>
</p><p>This was going to be a long few days.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I tried to handle things on my own. Ships were </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, on occasion, and even if the Lintha were substantially more open to sex whenever time allowed, I had not always had the luxury of bountiful sexual partners. I couldn’t finish, but. Something. To take the edge off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made sense at the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The theoretical practicality aside, masturbation wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>working</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I could touch my own skin, stroke my cock when I got the harness on, but none of it gave me anything like the warmth that touching another person would. Which. It was always different, but usually it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Made a certain amount of sense, if this was supposed to be for arranged marriages where someone didn’t like their spouse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leather of the harness got me closest, different enough from my own skin and similar enough to a Lintha’s, warm and supple and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bit my tongue. This was making it worse. Upon absolutely any consideration, that was the obvious outcome. But it was taking an active effort of will to keep my hands off myself, and an active focus to stay there, in the bed, and not just go out onto the deck and try and grab the nearest man to bend over a railing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pressed my hands onto my face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not helpful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” I said aloud, mostly to have something to focus on that wasn’t the leather, or the blankets Verithine fucked me in, or the other dozen things around the room that currently just made me think of how to fuck with them or on them. “The crew knows, so they’re expecting…something. Probably anyone who isn’t interested found somewhere to be.” And wasn’t that a thought, everyone on deck who wasn’t interested in acting interested in watching. Or would they have somewhere in mind? Tie me to something and do whatever they wanted to me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shuddered, pressed my hands harder into my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What I had said to Verithine still held. It would be easiest not to come if I didn’t fuck anyone. If I could manage to hold on, the touch of Venus would probably help. I had been able to make myself feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I also had a strong intuition that I wouldn’t be able to get myself off alone while it was in my system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled over, rutting into the bed and pretending it would do any good. All I could think of was getting skin on me, getting someone to suck me off or fuck me or—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I groaned into the mattress. At some point, my hands had made their way to my cock, and indeed, it wasn’t working. In the absence of anything productive to do, I shoved a fist in my mouth and bit it. It hurt, which helped me think straight for just a moment before I thought of someone else biting me, sharper-than-human teeth marking up my skin—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Yes. I could wait in bed for as long as I could manage, or I could go out with something vaguely resembling my wits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breaths. Deep breaths.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a performance. Like anything else. Play to the audience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stood up and checked myself. My hair had come undone; I tied the braids back again. I loosened the cloth binding over my chest a touch, since I didn’t want to crack a rib and didn’t trust myself to pay attention. Not much point to getting my pants on. The robe was probably a good touch, though; the belt had any number of uses even if I didn’t manage to keep it on me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stepped out onto the deck. Kartika was leaning against the wall and nodded my way, then popped open a small contraption she carried with her, a Lintha timepiece that looked like a cross between a sundial and a compass. “Damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verithine had said touch of Venus was popular when someone wasn't excited about their spouse. Looking at Kartika, I could see why. I’d never much seen the appeal beyond noting idly that some women were well-built, but if Kartika had reached out for me I think I would have fallen on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I forced my eyes to her face. (Away from her hands, her waist, her thighs; why did Lintha have to dress with so much exposed </span>
  <em>
    <span>skin…</span>
  </em>
  <span>) “Damn?” My voice sounded only a little odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped it shut. “Bets on how long you’d stay in there. Kimo is going to be insufferable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” I swallowed, thinking about the noises I’d made in there, the attention that a bet implied. “What were they betting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Kimo!” She looked back at me. “First go at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quartermaster swaggered over. I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to run over to him. “Did anyone consider asking me about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asked Verithine,” Kimo said. “Besides”—he stepped in close, hands on my waist—“are you about to say no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Skin and breath and teeth and body all that close, but only touching me through fabric. I smiled through pain and want, stretching onto my toes to speak into his ear. “I’m not. But you might want me somewhere a bit more private, unless you’ve changed your mind about some things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed a boast, then murmured, “You think you can?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I twisted my hands in his hair, right at the base of his skull, and tugged. Kimo gasped, quick and nearly imperceptible. “Care to stake your reputation on it, pretty thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He growled, voice rising. “Human bitch—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kimo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kartika. Right. Judging by Kimo’s expression, we had both forgotten she was there. I let him go, my sense of self-preservation overriding the drug in my system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kartika waited. Kimo broke first. “My mistake, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Don’t break Verithine’s things.” Her focus shifted to me. “Either of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kartika could break me in half. I was not used to this fact being quite so distracting. “Yes ma’am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very deliberately, Kartika turned the other way and started walking. The deck was remarkably clear for a distance, though I could still make out a handful of people watching, enough to make me blush. I reached for the cloth along Kimo’s waist, intending to pull him into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed my wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Skin skin skin, burning and addictive and breaking past every paper-thin barrier I’d put up for some semblance of control. “Gonna ruin you,” I growled, slamming him into the wall. “You’re gonna choke on my dick until it hurts to breathe, and you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>beg</span>
  </em>
  <span> me not to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth hung open, pupils blown wide enough to be round. “Ceru,” he breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t break Verithine’s things.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I clenched my jaw. It would be so easy to have Kimo on his knees for me, but that shame ran too deep. If he let a human have him in public, he’d leave the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pivoted, dragging him through the door behind me. “Shut it.” He fumbled, but got it on his own. Close enough. Let Kimo say he’d thrown me on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grabbed his hair and tugged, twisting in just the way that always made him weak, letting his knees collapse on their own. Even kneeling, he had to bend his spine to get to the right height, hands on my thighs to keep his balance and </span>
  <em>
    <span>why was I not fucking him yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t bother untying my robe; he could deal with cloth in his eyes. I pulled him hard onto my cock and thrust into his mouth, focusing on nothing but repeating the motion, hitting deep enough that he grunted and whined somewhere between pain and desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to feel me come down your throat, little thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trembled, making a delicious keening noise around me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad you’re gonna have to wait until the captain’s back. But don’t worry, whimpering wretch, I’ll be sure and fuck you desperate for it.” The words weren’t my best, but the slut between my legs didn’t seem to mind, gasping and shaking apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pressed a foot onto his cock. He jerked up into it, making helpless begging noises. “Haven’t even gotten your waist wrap off; you about to come in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped my thigh twice with his open palm. I jerked his head off me. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>What</em>
  </b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That snarl came out harsh enough to jar me back to myself, or maybe Kimo’s coughing did it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kimbery’s tits.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He coughed more, gasping. His eyes were watering. “I need to breathe, Ce—sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pressed my foot harder into him to hear him whine. “Too bad we don’t have a tub big enough to dunk you. Might give your gills some actual use, sucking me off right without passing out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo writhed, visibly trying and failing to still himself. “Sir, sir yes, sir, I—please I’ll, I’ll—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you come I’m fucking you against the mainsail mast, show everyone how desperate you are for human cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, eyes squeezing shut as he jerked up into me. “Please, not, I, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t come, pretty thing.” I gentled my foot then rolled it, setting hands on his shoulders to give myself enough balance to set a rhythm. “Unless you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to show everyone what a needy thing you are, want everyone who sees your face to know exactly what gets you off.” Kimo licked his lips, breath coming hard and unsteady. Another day I’d take my time pulling him apart, but today I enjoyed every advantage I cared for. “Pureblood just begging to be put in his place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During that speech he’d slid his hands onto my hips, sending touch of Venus pulsing hard. “Yessir.” His voice had quieted enough for the hoarseness to come through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his face into my chest. “I’m. I’m your. I’m.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I jerked his face up by the chin. “Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m yours. Whatever you—“ Fingernails digging into me, desperate eyes. “Whatever you want me to be, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He froze, then arched, trembling. I broke off. “On the bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo stared. It occurred to me I hadn’t kissed him before. That had seemed important, at some point, not kissing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo shook his head out and failed to stand up. I knew him well enough to know he was trying, and smiled to myself. “You may crawl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled in on himself and whined, then swore. After trying to stand one more time—or pretending to—he started crawling in the right direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold air hit me as he moved. I very nearly joined him: dropping to the ground seemed like a glorious idea if it let me touch him. With no small effort of will, I walked beside him instead, a hand on his neck, down his spine, each touch making him twitch in some of my favorite ways. Rarely had I been so grateful for the Lintha propensity for wearing so little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wrapped fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him the last foot. “I expect to be able to hand you back to Kartika in fit condition.” I managed to reach the lube without losing contact with him. “My focus may wander. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, burrowing his face into the bedding, ears twitching. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get this off,” I said, tugging a finger under the cloth he wore at his waist. I liked to do it myself, make him beg for it, but that required rather more patience than I had the luxury of owning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo was a handsome man. Not quite as well scarred as my Verithine, but marked enough over muscle. I ran my palms up the back of his ribs to watch those scars jump, hear him make any number of noises he couldn’t help while his hands fumbled over even the little clothing he wore. “Ceru.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dear thing?” I pressed my mouth to his shoulderblade, starting as a kiss and ending in a lick that set him shuddering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you’re like—while you’re—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While I have the ‘fucking herb’ in my system?” I let my hands rest on him, granting him enough breath to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Don’t—talk about. In front of people. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nipped at the salt-sweet skin near his spine. “Good boy, telling me what you need. Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something tumbled out of his mouth as he finally got his wrap off, though it took me three or four repetitions to place it as, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pressed an oiled finger into him, twisting to hear him lose his breath. “Say it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I breathed close to his spine. His hair prickled, and he shivered. “You want more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Kimo pressed back into me, much as he could, trembling like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you,” I murmured, sliding another finger in, twisting and scissoring him open to see his thighs quiver. “Beautiful when you’re helpless, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned. “Want you, want you, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kimo,” I teased, “I’m right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I—inside me, sir, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A third finger and that curling motion that made him jump every time. “Do you need my hand deeper?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, please, sir, need you, need </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want both my hands in you? That might be a tight fit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo sobbed underneath me. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it, pretty thing. Beg me for it.” He thrust onto my fingers hard enough to give me a different angle on his cock. The knot was starting to swell, untouched and unbidden. My voice went husky when I said, “I know you know how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands fisted in the blankets. “Please, sir, please put your c-c-cock in me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For lack of anywhere better to wipe the lube, I pumped my dick with it once, twice, before that fog swept off my patience again and I seated myself as deep as I could on one thrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods,” Kimo whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now stay still,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his back. “And tell me….mm. Name for me five knots you use with some regularity.” I brushed a finger along the base of his dick, on the off-chance he missed the double meaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo shuddered and gasped. “You can’t—be serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I struck his ass hard enough to leave a brief outline following my fingers. “Six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I—bowline. Figure eight. Reef knot. Over—overhand? Sheet bend. Cleat hitch.” My cock practically vibrated in him. So tense, so desperate, so good for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time you used a cleat hitch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Every muscle tensed, singing under my touch. “Sir, sir, I’m trying, but please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I traced my fingertips over his back as he whined. It was beautiful. This cleared my mind just enough that I knew I could keep going for hours, just holding him on my cock as I brushed against his back, his ribs, the skin just in front of his hips….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hours?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently not clear-headed enough to tell when I was speaking aloud. “Is that a problem? I could just keep you until Verithine comes back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sound tore its way out of Kimo. “I can’t, sir, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so weak, I want to be good for you, I swear, but—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush.” I curled a hand around his throat. “None of that. You are as good as I say you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, fighting to stay still under my gentle hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I say you are excellent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I say you are pretty, and capable, and lovely writhing under me. And I am a better judge of such things than you have any cause to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath caught. Over and over, as though he were trying to speak and couldn’t manage words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy.” I moved, only the space of a few inches, the way a Lintha might if their knot were keeping them from pulling out but they couldn’t stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More sounds, nearly words but too jumbled and desperate to be anything comprehensible, carrying him through my thrusts against every delicate point inside him until he spilled on the blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you—thank—thank you—“ he gasped, finally managing words in a boneless afterglow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nipped at his skin. He tasted of salt and sex, usually pleasant, currently intoxicating beyond reason. “Not done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kimo shuddered under me. “Y-yes sir.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>I did not come. I did have Kimo clean my dick, both with hands and soap and alcohol and with tongue and lips and throat. He passed out in the bed, his dick eventually staying soft even when I stroked it, though only after I’d managed to get him to finish until it came dry and painful and he begged me to stop and to not stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pulled some ink and a scrap of parchment that had gotten torn. It made quite a lovely image, drying stuck to his chest with his own half-dried seed. It read, simply:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clean up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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